


Twenty-Three Positions In A One Night Stand

by veronamay



Series: Stripper!Jared 'Verse [3]
Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alley Sex, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-20
Updated: 2007-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-27 21:09:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronamay/pseuds/veronamay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen's second visit to the club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twenty-Three Positions In A One Night Stand

**Author's Note:**

> Herein you will find the beginnings of plot for this 'verse. (Sidebar: I cannot believe I'm writing a fucking 'VERSE.) There will be character assassination, mostly related to Mayhem. I just want to say that I don't actually hate Chad; he's just a convenient target. Forgive me, Chad-lovers. I know he's a lovable douche, really. ;)

When Jensen gets home he finds eleven messages on his answering machine. Two are from telemarketers trying to sell him, respectively, life insurance and external cladding. The other nine are from Tommy in Niagara Falls. Jensen listens to all of them, trying to figure out what Tom's trying to _say_ , but it's hard to decipher actual words among the giggling, slurring, incoherent mumbling and (oh, _fuck_ no) moaning on the tape. He gets the gist of the idea though, which appears to be that Tom and Mike are drinking way more than is healthy and having a marvellous time. And a lot of sex, if Tom's breathy curses are any indication.

Jensen looks down at the white stetson in his hand and twirls it, his mouth curving in a satisfied smile. For once, he's not jealous. For once, he actually feels kind of _smug_ , because Tom and Mike have been at each other's throats and belt buckles for years - but Jensen pulled Jared _without even trying_.

He remembers the look in Jared's eyes when they parted, hot and lazy, mouth still wet from their kiss. His cock hardens quicker than thought, and for once, Jensen doesn't feel twisted frustration at the thought of jerking off alone. It feels like a precursor to something better. Like an appetiser before a seven-course banquet of sex.

There's a spring in his step as he heads toward the bathroom, settling the hat firmly on his head.

* * *

Jared isn't playing fair.

Jensen sits at 'his' table in the crowded club, gripping his beer with tense fingers, the hat in a shopping bag between his feet. He can barely hear the whoops and whistles echoing around him; his attention is fixed on the stage, and the man currently occupying it.

Jared. Wearing buckskin pants that lace up the sides, a gold mesh t-shirt and a lazy grin. Straddling a hard-backed wooden chair like it's a saddle, legs wide, hips tilted easy. Staring directly at Jensen as the house lights go down and the stage spot comes up, and a pounding bass line sends tremors through the floor.

 _This,_ Jensen thinks clearly, before his brain stops working altogether, _means war._

Then Jared starts to writhe on the chair, sliding across it back-and-forth, slipping off one side to half-kneel on the floor and thrust along the edge, snatches of skin visible between the laces on his hips and thighs. He pushes back up off the floor, slides one leg up and over the chair, kneeling on the seat with the other, and straddles the back of it, rolling his hips in a display of flexibility that has Jensen swallowing hard, mouth dry.

Jared shoots glances at him as he moves around the stage, sly green eyes and white teeth flashing as he whips into a turn, flexes out of a tumble. He turns his back to the crowd and twirls the chair on one leg, ass thrust slightly outward; but he's watching Jensen over his shoulder, and Jensen realises with a start that Jared's mouthing something at him.

_it's hard for me to say what's right when all i wanna do is wrong_

"Oh, you teasing fuck," Jensen breathes, and either Jared's really good at lip-reading or Jensen-reading or both, because he grins like the seven sins personified and blows Jensen a kiss. Then he's turning the chair round to face the crowd and doubling his efforts, rubbing and stroking himself against it with so much vigour Jensen's half afraid it'll catch fire. It's a race at this point as to whether it'd beat him there.

Jared finishes by rolling over the chair, legs straight up and over his body until everything tips backward and he tumbles out into a perfect kneeling stance, head down, chest heaving with exertion. The people around Jensen are going almost crazy, hollering and emitting ear-splitting whistles; some are throwing money on the stage. Jensen does none of these things. He just sits there, half-stunned, wondering what the hell he's gotten himself into. He's hard as a tent pole in his jeans, his hands are literally twitching with want, and he's pretty sure if he tried to speak he wouldn't be able to string two words together that weren't ' _fuck_ ' and ' _now_ '.

For someone who wants to take things slow, Jared sure knows how to be a fucking tease.

He's still sitting when the house lights come back up; he loses sight of Jared when people start to cross in front of him on their way to the bar. He can't hear anything but the babble of random conversation. He can't see anything except Jared's legs in tight buckskin, can't feel anything but the imagined sensation of those legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him so close he can't breathe properly.

By the time he thinks to look around and see if there might be a door leading backstage, Jared's already heading toward him. There's a look in his eyes that promises more than just talk, and Jensen wonders if taking it slow is about to become taking it to one of their homes and fucking it up against a wall. Or maybe in a bed this time; he'd like to see Jared in his bed, spread out across it taking up all the space so Jensen has no choice but to settle down on top of him, riding slow and hard.

Jared's grinning at him, eyes wicked, and Jensen's rising to his feet to meet him when Jared is pulled aside by the smirking blond MC who appears to run the place. Jensen racks his brain for the guy's name, watching him put his hand on Jared's bare arm and squeeze. Charlie? Brad? _Chad_ , that's it. Little fucker looks like a weasel.

Jared doesn't look any too happy to have Chad near him, but when Jensen moves toward them, he motions for him to stop. His mouth flattens into a thin line as he listens to the weasel talk, shoulders going stiff when Chad slides his hand further up Jared's arm. Jensen's about to go over there regardless of Jared's warning (Jared is _his_ , damn it; he can show himself off all he wants but _nobody else gets to touch_ ) when Jared flings Chad's hand away and growls something at him that makes Chad go pale.

He steps back, but Jared's already turned away. He comes straight at Jensen, brushes past him and snaps, "Outside," and before Jensen knows what he's doing he's retracing his steps of the previous night, following Jared into alley out back.

"Jared, what—" Jensen begins, but that's as far as he gets.

At the sound of his voice, Jared spins around and shoves him against the wall. One arm pins him across chest and throat; the other scrabbles at his belt while his mouth comes down hard, cutting off the rest of the sentence. Jensen struggles for a moment against the suddenness of it, but then Jared's got his zipper down and his hand slides under moist-warm cotton, and Jensen forgets about fighting and starts thrusting into Jared's fist like it's the last sex he's ever going to have. He slides one hand down the back of those second-skin pants, the other into warm damp hair and sucks Jared's tongue into his mouth, showing it round like it might've forgotten where all his sweet spots are in the past twelve hours. Jared murmurs something incomprehensible against his lips and looms in close, surrounding Jensen with his entire body. Jensen's already wet with pre-come and wired enough to spill at a click of Jared's fingers; the sensation of hot, sweat-slick skin under his hand and Jared's almost-rough touch on his cock brings him off embarrassingly fast. Jensen chokes on his warning and spurts into Jared's hand, and Jared grins against his parted lips, biting down softly on the lower one. He pulls away, just far enough to get his hand up to his mouth, and licks Jensen's come off it right in front of his eyes.

"Fucking hell, Jared," Jensen moans, slumping back against the wall. "What the hell was that?"

His heart's racing, his breath is short and choppy and he's twitching with aftershocks so strong they actually make him tremble. If the wall and Jared weren't holding him up, he'd be a boneless heap on the ground.

He feels _fantastic_.

"Um." Jared runs a hand through his hair and grins, managing to look sheepish and horny at the same time. "Hi."

"Hi," Jensen repeats, and blinks. "That's all you've got to say? _Hi_?"

"Uh, yeah." Jared's grin starts to falter as Jensen straightens to his full height and takes a step forward. "Jensen, is something—"

Jensen drops to his knees and yanks at the laces on Jared's pants; loosened by his earlier explorations, they flutter undone with ridiculous ease, and the entire front panel of leather falls away from Jared's hips. Jensen licks his lips and leans in, and whatever Jared was going to say disappears into the moan he lets out when Jensen sucks him in deep.

It's been a while since Jensen did this, but it's not something you forget. He takes a moment to acquaint himself with Jared's cock – big and heavy in his mouth, musky and salt-sweat on his tongue, just the way he likes – and then he sits back on his thighs and gets down to business. Lick-suck-swirl-scrape of teeth, and in thirty seconds Jared's hand is on his head pushing him closer, and Jensen would grin if he could but his mouth is just too full right now. He pulls off the shaft with a slick-sounding pop, licks along the crease of Jared's groin and down to his balls, pulling them into his mouth for the same treatment. Jared's hunched over him, his free hand braced against the wall, and the sounds coming out of his mouth are music to Jensen's ears. He dives back onto Jared's cock, swallowing it down and sucking hard enough to hurt; Jared doesn't seem to care. His hips snap forward and then lock, as if frozen. Jensen looks up and sees him staring down, aghast.

"S'okay," he says, sliding free again. "Do it, Jared. Fuck my mouth. I can take it."

Jared's eyes go dark and focus sharply on his mouth. Jensen draws his tongue over them and smiles, licking at the tip of Jared's cock.

"Jesus, Jensen," he hears, and then Jared's holding his head in a strong grip and thrusting in deep, and Jensen just opens up wide and swallows him down, as much as he can take. Jared seems to know when to stop, when to start fucking, and exactly how hard he can be without it hurting. Jensen curls his hands around Jared's thighs and holds on, rubbing and slicking the underside of Jared's cock with his tongue, stimulating the nerves bundled under his cockhead. Jared braces both hands against the wall and fucks in earnest, half-formed curses falling from his lips, neck stretched and beautiful over Jensen's head. He comes like that a second later, shooting warm and bitter down Jensen's throat, and it tastes like triumph.

"So," Jensen says once they can both breathe again, leaning into each other and the wall. "Is that how you always say hello?"

Jared ducks his head and laughs, actually scuffing his foot over the ground. Jensen reaches up and shifts his bangs off his forehead, palming his jaw.

"No," Jared admits. "Normally I'm pretty well house-trained." He looks Jensen over from head to foot, a smile crooking his mouth. "Guess you made me forget myself."

Jensen feels a warm glow of satisfaction, and can't bring himself to feel sorry for it. They're meant to be taking it slow, yeah, but he didn't start this; Jared did. And if Jared breaks his own rules, Jensen can't be blamed for following along.

"Well," he says at last, and pulls Jared's face to his. "Hi." He brushes a kiss over firm lips and lets go. "Nice show, by the way. Very ... inspiring."

"Thought you'd like it." Jared's sideways glance is pure wickedness, but his mouth is a soft curve, almost hesitant. "Glad you came."

"Me too," Jensen says deadpan, and grins when Jared rolls his eyes. "Me too," he repeats a second later, serious now. He is glad. He has no idea what he's doing or where this is going, but he likes Jared, likes talking with him, likes not talking with him. Likes - _loves_ \- fucking him, kissing him, touching him. He wants to do all of that a whole lot more.

A yawn overtakes him, and Jared laughs and hits his chest.

"Come on, you. Time for bed." He stops, looks down, then back at Jensen. "Um, that is, if you – I'm just over ... I've got—"

Jensen elbows him in the ribs and pushes off the wall. He barely remembers bringing the shopping bag outside with him; but it's there by his feet, the hat still safe inside. He brings it out and twirls it, then sits it on Jared's head and kisses him again.

"Close your mouth, or you'll catch flies," he says, trying to appear collected. "Lead the way, man."

Jared smiles at him, open and warm, and takes his hand as they walk to the end of the alley.

END


End file.
